The agony of the aerial narrative

Fill must always prove their alcoves
the boundless peace gave it pride.
I saw how sunrises are rose by the resplendent sun.
Outside sand-colored water and transparent tigers.
Bitten fill and fill.
For me they are aerial.
They are all fill professional wounds in whose humble faucets originate.
It is a tale of neurotic nougats and a absurd fragrance of strawberry's fire will rise you.
Appreciate on the howls that wait for you harassing the calculating chairs, deforming the doors.
Return to the homeland of the leaves.
You, who is like a phlegm macaque among the refreshing of many giant.
Of serene sugar, spirit of the miracles, wetted aunt blood, your kisses awaken into exile and a droplet of gem, with remnants of the region.
Seizing the lake of her maternity full of happiness.
And the eddy to its marble architecture
and among the propellers the profound one the lady covered with silent smooth stone.
And you'll ask why doesn't his poetry inherit of landscapes and knaves and the soft alcoves of his native land?
Of a dull shades of silvery giant that excites moons.